Klimt & Donadrond

Moonlight filters through an open window, casting a soft glow over the cluttered desk. Stacks of paper, some teetering precariously, cover the table's surface. A tall man, his blonde hair slick with sweat, sits at the desk, his piercing golden eyes focused on the document in front of him.

He runs a hand over his brow, wiping away the beads of sweat that have formed there. The elf sighs as he finishes reading and sets the document down. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he takes in the mess of papers surrounding him. A worried look crosses his face as he considers the implications of what he has just read.

"How could something like this happen in so little time?" Klimt said, his voice laced with disbelief. He stared at the document in front of him, his eyes scanning the page as he tried to make sense of the chaos described there. Donadrond, standing nearby, watched Klimt with a concerned expression.

"I know it's hard to believe, but everything in this report is accurate," Donadrond said, his voice grave.

Klimt let out a shaky breath, his mind racing. "Could one person really do all that devastation on his lonesome?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Donadrond hesitated before answering. "It's possible that it wasn't just one person behind the massacre," he said, "even though eyewitnesses reported seeing only a single unknown man. But if it was just one person, we are dealing with an unknown individual of immense strength, possibly even greater than a B-Rank adventurer."

Klimt looked up at Donadrond, his golden eyes filled with worry. "Even if this unknown man did kill a threat to the city, he is still a potential threat himself. An individual with this level of power can't be considered safe until they are found, and their intentions are made clear."

"I understand your concerns," Donadrond replied, "but finding this person is going to take time. In the meantime, we must devise a careful plan to work with the knights and keep the people calm. We can't afford to cause unnecessary panic, but we also can't ignore the fact that there may be danger present."

"I agree," Klimt nodded. "I'll speak with the knights and see the resources available for tracking this person down. While I do that, I want you to organize a group of adventurer's into a search party and start searching the surrounding area, but don't let your guard down."

Donadrond nodded and replied, "Understood; I'll gather the adventurers and begin the search immediately." He then turned and quickly left the room

Klimt then walked over to the window, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. The rain outside was a constant patter against the glass, the drops distorting his view of the world beyond. The sky was dark and gloomy, the clouds heavy with the promise of more rain to come. Klimt could see the ruins of a burnt, destroyed building. The scene sent shivers down his spine, the unease only compounded by the dark ambiance.

'Damnit... why does everything go wrong the moment Fran leaves Alessa. Ugh… I'll have to call on Amanda again; she'll be quite valuable in this situation.'

Klimt let out a soft sigh as he turned away from the window and returned to his desk. He sat down heavily, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. Klimt then picked up a piece of paper from his desk, which contained a report from Donadrond about recently registered adventurers. And one name, in particular, caught Klimt's attention: Momonga. He read the description of the adventurer, which mentioned a feeling of dread, sorrow, and death. Klimt couldn't shake off the mystery surrounding this person, and he found himself speaking aloud in a low, whispering voice.

"Momonga... who are you?" Klimt murmured, eyes scanning the page for other clues about this mysterious adventurer. "What kind of experiences have left you giving off a sense of dread and sorrow?" Klimt said aloud, slightly wondering if Momonga would be of any use in the search party. "I'll note Donadrond to add this adventurer to the party; see what he's capable of," Klimt said as he leaned back in his chair, stressed and agitated by the situation.